


i wish you would

by inlovewithnight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 22:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10318130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: The second time, and the first time, that they do this thing, that's new and scary and wrong and good.





	

Keith waits for Aaron after the game. It's weird, having someone wait for him. Like, specifically for him. Nobody's done that since Willie and Soupy left.

Keith isn't looking at his phone or anything, he's watching the locker room door and waiting for Aaron.

It makes Aaron's stomach tighten up, and his skin feel all hot and tight everywhere. He clears his throat and waves his hand a little, aware that he looks awkward as hell, but what else is he supposed to do?

“There you are,” Keith says. His voice is-- it's probably just his regular voice, but it makes Aaron feel even weirder and warmer.

“Yeah. Uh.” Aaron shifts his weight, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I'm all set?”

“Great.” Keith nods, still just _looking_ at him. “Good job tonight, kid.”

That doesn't mean anything, it's just a word, it's not even a particularly loaded one. It's just. It.

It just spins him around, now, ever since the talk he and Keith had before this trip, after the Kings game. 

**

Aaron was in the parking garage after the game, somehow by himself--the whole team was slinking off one by one to go home and hate themselves in peace, and he'd ended up out here in a bubble without anybody else. All he needed to do was get in the car and leave. That was it.

But he was so fucking pissed he couldn't seem to do it. He was just standing there, next to the car, kicking at the tires and at the wall. He wanted to punch stuff, too, but he couldn't risk his hands, so he just kept kicking and cursing under his breath, and his chest fucking hurt, and it just--he--

A hand closed on his arm and yanked him around.

“Fuck,” he blurted, trying to pull away, but Keith--it was Keith, holding his arm, really tight--didn’t let him go. If anything he gripped tighter. “Let go of me.”

“That's enough of that.” Keith's voice was low and rough, sort of _dark_ , in a way Aaron didn't know what to do with. “That's enough, you hear me?”

He did hear him. He stopped fighting.

“I've been watching you all season,” Keith said, his fingers still pressing hard into Aaron's arm through his dress shirt and jacket. “Trying to figure out what's going on in your head. Why you keep fucking up when you _know_ better. I know you know better.”

Aaron shook his head. He couldn't think of words, couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but feel Keith's hand on his arm, like it was burning hot.

“You need a little discipline, don't you? You need someone to keep you in line.” Keith's voice dropped even lower, and it sent a shiver through Aaron's stomach, low and hot like a knife.

“I don't.” The words caught in his throat and he shrugged helplessly. “I don't know.”

“I know. I've figured you out.” Keith shook him a little--it didn't hurt, exactly, but it took up space in his head, it was all he could focus on. “I know what you need.”

Aaron wanted him to be right. He'd been looking for what he needed all season, but he couldn't find it. He couldn't even get close.

“What is it?” he asked desperately. “Help me.”

Keith squeezed again, clamping down on his arm. “Rowe’s going to play us together on the west coast trip. Get it together. Play well.” Even harder, more pressure, until it really _hurt_. “Be a good boy and make me proud, Aaron. Can you do that?”

Aaron gasped, pain and confusion and yes all together.

“Answer me, kid.”

“Yes,” Aaron said, nodding frantically. “I'll be good. I'll make you proud. I promise.”

Keith nodded and let go, then walked away, and Aaron just stood there, staring, until Bjugy came through the door and he had to get in his car and get away.

There were bruises on his arm when he got home. By the morning they were tinged in blue.

**

He walks to the bus with Keith. They're not touching or anything, but he can feel that Keith's close to him. He's just super _aware_ of him, the heat of his body or something. It's all he can think about. He almost trips over his own feet.

When they get to the bus Keith steps back and gestures for Aaron to go in front of him. His hand brushes Aaron's lower back while they climb the stairs and Aaron almost trips again. It's distracting, Keith touching him. It makes that awareness even worse, like the touch might burn him. He can't handle this.

“Behave,” Keith murmurs, like he knows what Aaron's thinking. Aaron swallows hard and makes his way back to his seat. His dick is getting thick in his boxers and he's going to die if Keith touches him again. He's gonna die if Keith _doesn't_ touch him, though. He's fucked.

He sits down and waits, looking out the window at the parking garage. He and Keith have never sat together on the bus, and it would be weird if they started now. The guys would notice. Aaron doesn't want to do anything weird, exactly, he doesn't want to draw attention, but…

He wants Keith sitting next to him. Making sure that he behaves. Watching him in that way that makes Aaron feel hot and desperate and like his skin is tight. Fuck. He just wants Keith.

He's going to get him when they get back to the hotel. And he's pretty sure it's going to be good, it's going to be--like it was in Florida, the one time they've been together, at the end of the bye week when he came home and found Keith waiting for him there.

** 

Keith was in his apartment, which--weird, and definitely breaking boundaries, and also how did he even manage it?

“Reilly let me in,” Keith said, which meant Aaron needed to get his spare key back and give it to someone else, even though Reilly living in the same building and having his spare was convenient. There was a certain level of trust to think about, and Reilly had fucked that up.

Keith was looking at him patiently, while Aaron's brain zoomed through all of that and then brought him back to the moment. “What do you want?” Aaron finally remembered to ask. “Why did you come over here?”

“I've been thinking about what you need. What will get you back in the right direction.”

Aaron shook his head, but his body was already starting to feel hot, from Keith looking at him like that and the memory of the last time he did. “I'm fine.”

“I ran film on you.” Keith took a step closer. “From last year and the year before.”

Aaron swallowed hard. “You did?”

“I started out just watching your game. Since we're going to be paired together.” Keith reached out slowly, and Aaron didn't flinch back, didn't even want to flinch back, was suddenly, wildly desperate for Keith to touch him. 

Keith's hand cupped his jaw. Aaron's stomach tightened and he gasped a little, then choked on the air as he tried to hide it.

“It wasn't that hard to figure out once I was looking,” Keith said softly, gently. “Everybody else saw it too, they just called it wrong. They thought you were missing Mitchell and Campbell as your mentors on the ice, but that's not the part you really need, is it?”

“I don’t--” Aaron’s shoulders slumped. Keith was touching him so gently, and he had missed that, so much. “I mean. No. Not just on the ice.”

“You need somebody to take you in hand.” Keith stroked his jaw slowly. “Right?”

All Aaron could do was nod. He _did_ need that, so much. It was fucking humiliating, but it was true; he needed somebody to be in charge of him. Guide him. Put him back on track when he messed up. Push him around a little, when he deserved it.

“Answer me,” Keith said.

“Um.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I do. Yeah. I need… that. A lot.”

Keith cocked his head to the side. “Did they both used to do that for you?”

“Just Mitchie.” Aaron closed his eyes as Keith’s hand drifts along his jaw, his thumb coming up to brush Aaron’s lips. “He was…”

“I know what he was. I’ve heard the other guys tease you about it.”

Heat flooded Aaron’s body, racing to his face. “It’s not--I know what they say but it wasn’t--”

“No?” Keith’s hand left his face and curved around the back of his neck. “You don’t like them calling him your daddy?”

If a moment ago was a wave of heat, this was falling into a bottomless pit of lava. “I…”

“You don’t like _them_ saying it.” Keith’s eyebrow went up. “Because that’s just yours, yeah? Doesn’t belong to them.”

It hurt to breathe. “H-how do you…”

“I’ve been around for a while, Ek.” Keith squeezed the back of his neck a little. “You want me to take care of you? Will you let me?”

Aaron still couldn’t believe that Keith _knew_ , that he had figured it out. Just from watching, though, that was kind of… that was alarming. What if someone else could figure it out? What if everyone could figure it out?

But he needed to answer Keith’s question before he could worry about that. It was an easy answer, thank god. Yeah, he would let him. He wanted it. Right now it was all he wanted, for someone to show him how to behave. How to be good again.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rough, catching in his throat. “Yes, please, I--I want it. I need it. Please, Yands.”

Keith’s hand tightened again and he tilted his head to the side, looking at Aaron patiently. “Please what?”

Aaron _shook_. Oh god. “Please, daddy.”

**

Keith does it differently than Willie did. Willie was… patient, and gentle. He would wait for Aaron to figure out what he wanted, then gently tease him about how long it took, then give him his reward. Keith isn’t so patient. He doesn’t want Aaron to learn by figuring it out; he wants Aaron to _do what he’s told_. 

It’s good, Aaron thinks. Willie’s way is what Aaron needed then--but this is what he needs now.

They get to the room and Keith snaps his fingers casually. “Take a seat.”

Aaron drops into the armchair by the dresser, folding his hands in his lap. “Yes, sir?”

Keith sits down on the edge of the dresser, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “Let’s start with you telling me what you did well tonight.”

He didn’t expect that. But… okay, well. “I had a goal and an assist.”

“You did.” Keith nods. “But let’s talk about your defensive game. You are a defenseman.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Aaron swallows and glances down at his hands. “It was pretty solid on the fundamentals. I covered my zone. Um. I did pretty good, I think.”

Keith looks at him for a moment. “Next game I need you to pay better attention so you can give me specifics. Understood?”

Aaron wracks his brain desperately. “I stuck to the two passes and shoot plan on the power play. I kept to it every time.”

“That’s good. Yes.” Keith taps his knuckles on the dresser. “Now tell me what you did wrong.”

That’s easier. “Turnover in the second. Didn’t finish all my checks cleanly. Didn’t screen Reims good enough for that rebound.”

“Plus two penalties.”

Aaron squirms in his seat. “Yeah.”

Keith nods. “You’ve gotta learn a lesson, don’t you? Remember why you can’t do that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Keith almost smiles. Aaron can see it in his eyes, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You want to learn your lesson, right? Want to be a good boy.”

Fuck. Aaron knows this is part of the test, seeing if he can hold still and be good, but he wants to get this started, he wants it _now_. “Yes, sir.”

“My good boy.” The way Keith says it is pure heat, a jolt going through Aaron’s belly, and he isn’t sure how much longer he can take waiting, even if it means being bad.

He sways forward a little, not leaving his seat but not holding his place, and Keith’s hand cracks against his cheek in a solid smack. Aaron’s brain explodes white and he moves with the impact, falling off his chair and sprawling onto the floor.

“Get up,” Keith says, and that heat is still in his voice, a crackling layer over pure steel. “Get up and look at me.”

Aaron drags himself to his knees and looks up, letting his head fall back to bare his throat. Willie always liked that. Maybe Keith will like it, too. 

“All the way up.” Keith puts two fingers under Aaron’s chin and holds his head there. “You’re setting yourself up for a spanking if you don’t start doing what you’re told.”

Aaron’s cock jerks at that. Yeah, he wants that, he wants Keith’s hand on his ass, but he gets that if he’s bad, and he wants to be good. He _desperately_ wants to be good, he always has. This is confusing and difficult and it makes him harder than anything, trying to weave his way through and figure out how he should respond.

Keith’s hand drops from his chin and Aaron braces himself for another slap, but instead Keith catches him under the armpits and hauls him to his feet. “Still can’t listen. All right, if that’s how it’s going to be. Go bend over the table. Brace yourself on your elbows.” Aaron scrambles to do as he’s told, then stumbles as Keith sighs in frustration. “Get your damn pants off, first, kid, do I have to tell you everything goddamn thing?”

 _Yes_ , Aaron thinks wildly, but he gets his suit pants down and braces himself on his elbows over the table. Dress shirt, tie, boxer-briefs, pants around his ankles, still in his socks and shoes. Maybe this is right. If it isn’t, he’ll have to beg forgiveness. Thinking about that makes his cock jerk again and bump against the edge of the table. 

Keith is big and strong and solid and he hits a lot harder than Willie, hard enough that each smack against Aaron’s ass rocks Aaron forward into the table. He’s shifted so it isn’t hitting his dick, but it’s half-hard and sliding against the underside of the table through his briefs. It’s not comfortable, it’s not _good_ , but it’s perfect right now.

Keith gives him fifteen and then steps back. “On your knees now. Move.”

The pants around his ankles make it tricky, and he almost falls before he gets settled the way Keith wants him. It earns him a stern look and a little headshake, like Keith is _disappointed_ in him, which just--it makes Aaron’s stomach heat and twist and he has to duck his head and take deep breaths.

“Open your mouth,” Keith says, and the heat blooms through Aaron’s whole body. If this is going to be the same as it was before, that night at his apartment, it’s… he doesn’t know… god, he _wants_ it, so much he can’t even think.

**

Keith put him on his knees right there, in the living room, his fingers tangled tight in Aaron’s hair, holding his head back. Aaron’s mouth fell open on reflex, and he stared up, tears prickling the corners of his eyes and spit gathering under his tongue, open and gross and vulnerable to whatever Keith wanted.

What he wanted was to push two fingers of his free hand into Aaron’s mouth, knuckles pushing at his teeth and opening his mouth wider. He pressed them back as far as he could, until Aaron gagged, held helpless and still while Keith fucked over his tongue and into his throat in a shallow, steady rhythm that made him shake all the way down to his knees.

Keith pulled his hand free and slapped him, open-handed across the face, still holding Aaron still so he couldn’t rock with it, couldn’t move at all, could only take the blow and gasp. Another strike, backhand this time, and then Keith cursed and fumbled to get his fly open, twisting his fingers tighter in Aaron’s hair until he could feel the sharp pain in his teeth.

And then Keith’s dick was in his mouth, hot and thick and tasting of salt and musk, pushing and taking and not giving him room to breathe or think or feel. Using him. Aaron knew it was fucked-up to like that, even worse to need it, crave it, but he couldn’t help it. He never could help the things that made him shake inside.

Keith fucked into his throat and gasped and swore under his breath until he came, so deep that Aaron couldn’t even taste it. He couldn’t do anything but gag and blink away the hot strained tears at the corners of his eyes.

He was still dribbling come from his mouth when Keith pulled him to his feet and kissed him. His hands settled warm and heavy on Aaron’s back, holding him up and still until one of them slid around his body and into his briefs to wrap around his painfully hard cock. The fabric was already wet and clinging, keeping Keith’s hand from moving easily until he muttered under his breath and pulled Aaron’s cock over the waistband.

Keith jerked him off fast and rough, but after Aaron came he was really gentle. He helped Aaron down the hall to the bathroom and into the shower, watched him while he cleaned up, then helped him towel off and get into bed. He _tucked him in_ , which sent a flash of confusion through Aaron’s head at first, but he was too tired to really engage with it, so he let it go. He closed his eyes and breathed and just kind of let himself feel nice, for a moment.

Keith kissed him on the forehead before he left, and ruffled his hair a little. Aaron didn’t have to say the word out loud, they could both feel it in the air before the door closed. _Goodnight, daddy._

**

Now, tonight, he knows he’s going to say it. Just feeling it isn’t going to be enough; it needs to get out there, between them, a spark that can send everything up in flames. Aaron’s ready for that, he thinks. He’s ready for this to be whatever it wants to be. Ready for more.

Keith slides his cock into Aaron’s mouth, and Aaron relaxes, getting ready to either suck or let his throat get fucked depending on what Keith wants. But instead Keith just dips it in and then pulls out again, the length spit-wet in the light. Aaron frowns and glances up at him, trying to gauge what he did wrong. Keith doesn’t look upset, though--flushed and a little glassy-eyed, but intent, his lips parting as he looks down at Aaron.

Aaron still isn’t sure what Keith’s waiting for, or if there’s something he wants _Aaron_ to be doing that he isn’t picking up on. He licks his lips and sits up a little higher on his knees, ignoring the twinge of pain in them, and sways in toward Keith, trying to offer himself up a little more obviously. 

Keith moves before Aaron quite understands it--stepping close and moving to the side, and then an impact against Aaron’s face, but it isn’t the sharp smack of his hand, it’s more measured, hotter, and-- _oh_ , that’s--that’s Keith’s cock, slapping his face, and then again, and Aaron’s gasping, trying to catch his breath while the blood surges to his own cock and Keith catches the back of his head, drags him in close, and thrusts into his mouth.

This time it’s clear what he wants, holding on tightly and fucking into Aaron’s throat. Aaron lets him have everything, take all of it. He can’t even think, just float inside of his head while his mouth gets used and his body aches with need and anticipation.

Keith comes deep in his throat, so deep he can’t even taste him, and Aaron swallows obediently, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and silently telling his body to hold on, to keep behaving. If he fucks up now he might not get _anything_ nice, he might really be in trouble.

“God,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.” His grip loosens in Aaron’s hair, and then he pets it instead, gentle flat strokes of his hand. “You… you’re so good, Aaron. Such a good boy. My good, good boy.” 

Aaron gasps and nods frantically, swaying toward Keith until he’s leaning into Keith’s legs, letting him hold him up. Thank god, he’s finally getting it right, doing something _well_ , getting the praise he’s been chasing so hard. If he can do it here, maybe he can do it on the ice, too. Maybe he can pull everything back together.

“Hey,” he hears softly. Keith’s hand slips around to cup his jaw, gently forcing him to look up even when he tries to hide his face against Keith’s thighs. “Look at me a minute? Okay. There you are.”

Aaron nods a little, swallowing in a gulp and trying to put together a few coherent words. “That… you…”

“It’s okay. Just catch your breath.”

Aaron shakes his head. “I gotta… thank you?” That isn’t quite right, not 100%, but it’s close enough. And it makes Keith smile down at him and stroke his hair again. That’s good.

“You want to get off?” Keith asks softly. “Or just rest? Either one’s okay. You did good.”

Making a choice is hard while his head is still so spinny, but at least he can’t make a _wrong_ one. “Think… I think I wanna get off,” he says finally, leaning into Keith’s legs again “Please. If it’s okay.”

“It’s okay.” He can hear the smile in Keith’s voice, and just a little bit of laughter. Not mean, though. “Can you stand up?”

He needs a little bit of help, but he makes it, and then Keith guides him over to the bed and puts him down on his back. Aaron moves to help when Keith starts pulling his underwear down, but Keith gently pushes his hands away, holding them to the bed until Aaron gets the idea and keeps still.

“Be a good boy and let daddy take care of you,” Keith says, and god, it’s like liquid heat going through Aaron’s veins, through his whole body, head to toes with a definite layover in his dick.

Keith touches him gently, stomach and thighs and groin and balls, teasing until Aaron’s fully hard and ready, his fingers twisting at the bedsheets. He doesn’t know what he expects, exactly--he’s not thinking ahead, he’s just feeling, waiting, being good--but Keith sliding his mouth around him and taking him in is perfect, slow and steady and hot.

Aaron shivers and twitches, begs a little, tries to keep his voice down but doesn’t quite manage it at the end, when he comes with a whiny shout that makes Keith choke on a laugh and Aaron’s come as he pulls off. “Listen to you,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna remember that for next time.”

“Sorry.” Aaron turns his head to the side, trying to use the pillowcase to wipe away the sweat stinging his eyes. Keith’s hand catches his chin again and he obediently goes still, smiling a little as Keith carefully wipes his face with a corner of the sheet. 

“Better?” Keith asks. When Aaron nods, he gets up and walks to the bathroom. Aaron listens to the sink run, to Keith splashing water on his face and muttering to himself, to the sound of a dopp kit unzipping and zipping up again. He feels like he’s floating, tired and warm and safe in the knowledge that he’s been good. He could stay like this for days.

Keith comes back with a damp towel and cleans him up, then sits on the edge of the mattress and looks him over appraisingly. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” Aaron pulls himself together enough to stretch slowly, checking his body’s response. Nothing but the usual twinges. “I’m good. Tired.”

“You should be tired. You had a good night.”

Aaron grins and closes his eyes, letting the approval sink down under his skin. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Good boy.” He feels Keith stand up, hears him moving around and getting dressed again. Aaron doesn’t open his eyes until Keith pulls the blankets over him, fussing just a bit to get them tucked in right.

“I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast,” Keith says, brushing Aaron’s hair back off his forehead with a fond smile. “Don’t be late, eh?”

“I won’t, sir.” 

The promise earns him a nod of approval and a kiss on the forehead before Keith turns out the light and leaves. Aaron takes a deep breath, then another, lying there in the dark. He feels better than he has all year.


End file.
